


Dirt and Roses

by Daryl_Grimes (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Sort of a past AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Daryl_Grimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer once more in the world, and even with all the shit happening around him, Daryl can't help but look back on the woman he loved so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirt and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write a story for my college magazine about summer
> 
>  
> 
> _Massive thank you to Hannibal_X_Will for beta and editing for me <3_  
> I couldn't find the name for Daryl's Mother, so I improvised.

 

The summer brought with it memories galore to Daryl:  
  
The flowers growing high, mixing with the weeds; the blooms he would pick to help his Mother make a broth with whichever animal his brother would catch whilst hunting. He would run through the clearing of enchanter's nightshade, bluebells and dog roses. He could still remember his Mother, in a simple white shirt and a long flowing lilac skirt, spinning around the clearing, laughing softly as he ran through the flowers and into her arms.  
  
She would reach up to the thick branches of the trees, picking an apple for Daryl and he would curl up in her arms as he ate it, gladly resting his head on her shoulder. Later they would skip through the woods, back home, basket of herbs and flowers swinging on his mother's arm.  
  
Daryl would cling playfully to her arms and sticky fingers leaving little prints on her shirt then he would run ahead, moving to climb a tree. Much closer to home, his Mother would leave Daryl to climb, before returning from their small home, new basket on her arm. Daryl would climb high, low, and all around the tree, picking apples, pears and peaches, gently dropping them into his Mother's waiting hands, slowly ladening the basket full of sweet fruit.  
  
Then his brother would come tramping through the woods, moving to wrap an arm around his Mother. There would be nothing said, Daryl would scramble around to sit on a branch above his brother, only to let himself drop down into his waiting arms. They would run back to the cottage, him and his brother, only for his brother to go back for his hunting score of the day.   
  
Daryl would run back, running around his Mother, laughing as she twirled too, happily grabbing a peach from the basket, only to run back to jump onto his brother's back.  
  
It was how every summer was spent, every day - within two days, their fruit bowl would be full of succulent fruit. Anything that wasn't good went back to the woods to fertilise the ground.  
  
At least, that was how it went until Daryl hit his seventh birthday.  
  
Then he was told that his Mother went away. That she wouldn't be coming back.  
  
Daryl was too young to understand.  
  
He didn't understand why his brother and Father kept crying all the time.   
  
He understood when he was eleven. He followed his brother to the grave yard, and went over to the grave stone his brother had knelt at.   
  
_Jasmine Dixon_  
B _eloved mother and wife._  
   
Daryl didn't think he ever cried harder. 

xox

Slowly, Daryl reached up to break an apple from the branch overhead. He bit into the soft skin, the crunch loud, the juices sweet.   
  
The sun chose then to peer around a cloud, shining down on Daryl.   
  
He looked up, a soft smile on his face, and he swallowed his mouthful.   
  
Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to bring himself to enjoy this summer. 


End file.
